Desolation Road
by Pjazz
Summary: Derek Reese and his younger brother Kyle travel through the post-apocalyptic ruins of San Diego in search of John Connor. Mostly post-Judgement Day. Completed. Chapter 9 of 9.
1. Chapter 1

**Desolation Road**

**Terminator : Sarah Connor Chronicles **

**Fanfic **

**by Pjazz**

**2008**

**CHAPTER ONE**

_No end in sight_

_on desolation road_

_machines to my left and right_

_on desolation road_

_lord, why have you forsaken me?_

_on desolation road_

-- Rebel folk song, 2033 AD

Origin unknown

Present day

Derek Reese woke with a heartpounding intake of breath. The nightmare faded immediately as conciousness returned. It was the same nightmare nearly every night.

_My brother Kyle pursued by a Terminator while I stand by and do nothing. Nothing but watch him die night after night. And the terminator's face was Cameron Baum's._

He rose from the sweat drenched sheets, remembering to put on a pair of boxer shorts before leaving the room. Sarah Connor didn't care for him him wandering the house naked. Didn't care for him much period it seemed. Not the way she had cared for Kyle._ Perhaps I'm just the unlovable type._

The bedside clock read 7 am. He walked to the nearest bathroom and pushed open the door. Cameron stood in the bathtub, wearing just underwear. She had shaving foam smeared on her legs and a Bic razor in her hand.

"Oh. Sor--" Derek stopped in mid apology._ Damned if I'll apologize to a machine _"What are you doing?"

"Depilating."

"Since when does a machine shave its legs?"

"I am designed to be as humanlike as possible."

"Yeah? You get periods?"

"No. I do not ovulate. It is not necessary for assimilation."

"Thank heaven for small mercies."

Derek considered leaving and using another bathroom. The house had several. _Why the hell should I?_

_She's a cyborg.If she doesn't like it. Tough._ He moved to the toilet bowl, took aim and let nature take its course. Unabashed Cameron continued depilating. Derek flushed and washed his hands. John popped his head round the door.

"Hey. Breakfast's ready. Fresh bagels and coffee." He noticed their skimpy attire. He grinned. "You two need some privacy?"

Derek grinned right back relishing the absurdity. "Not in her wildest dreams, pal."

"I do not dream," Cameron told him.

"You don't?"

"No."

_Then for once I envy you, machine._

**111011001010001010001010001010010010100101010101000010101010101001010100101**

Sarah Connor was absent from the breakfast table. Her turn for the supermarket run. She liked to shop early and avoid the crowds. With her gone Derek Reese could relax more, kick back and enjoy the unaccustomed luxuries of the early 21st century. He held a Coors in one hand and a hot pocket in the other. The bagels reduced to crumbs on a plate._ Sure beats cold KP rations eaten in the shelter of a disused sewer pipe. _His mood was only slightly spoilt when Cameron entered the room and sat opposite him. She spread school books on the table.

_A terminator studying for exams. It truly turns the stomach._

"How's it going? Get any gold stars from teacher yet?"

"No gold stars. Plenty of A's."

"Well aren't you the model student."

"Yes."

"How are your history grades? Learning much? Like how it took the human race millenia to create civilization only for your kind to destroy it in a day. Think they'll give you extra credits for that?"

"Human history is based on warfare and conflict. You are a violent species."

"Perhaps. But it's slim justifcation for what you did. Will do."

"It is not justification. Merely fact."

"You remember the day we first met?"

"In the Skynet bunker. Before you were sent through time."

"No. Before that. In San Diego. I was with my brother Kyle. Your name was Maria then."

"No. That was not me."

"It looked exactly like you. Exactly."

"It was the same model, but not me. We are all identical. Built from the same mould."

John Connor looked up from his text book. "When was this?"

"A while ago. Kyle and I were on our way to join up with you on the New Mexico border. We'd made our way down the coast from LA to San Diego. You want to hear the story?"

"Sure." He loved to hear Derek Reese's stories, especially if they involved his father.

"Okay. I'll start when we reached the ruins of the city. Man, that was some sight...

**111010001000100010001001000100000111100101010010100101001001111111111**

**Future/past**

Derek Reese crested the final rise. He whistled in astonishment. Before him lay the remains of the city of San Diego. Throughout history humans had gazed on scenes of utter desolation - the Great Fire of London 1666, Dresden, Hiroshima and Nagasaki 1945, New York 2001 - but surely nothing could match this. From the tumbled oceanfront condos in the west to the buckled interstate freeways to the east there was nothing but utter devastation. Ruined buildings as far as the eye could see. A vast sea of rubble stretched to the horizon. On Judgement day Skynet had exploded a nuclear device a mile above the city. The blast wave flattened buildings, bridges, anything standing like a deck of cards. A city of three million people.The only saving grace, if you could call it that : the device was low yield, leaving behind relatively little hazardous radioactivity.

"Gnarly. Looks worse than Los Angeles."

Kyle Reese stood next to his older brother. Both men carried heavy rucksacks on their backs. All they owned in the world.

"How do we cross this?"

"We walk. We climb. We crawl, if necessary. We do what it takes. No one said this was going to be easy. Those days are gone. You ready for this?"

"As I'll ever be."

"I'll take point. Let's roll."

It took them two days to reach Balboa Park, a relative oasis amid the carnage. The nuclear blast had toppled the mature trees but fresh young saplings were already pushing through the dead branches.

_Nature's endless cycle of renewal_, Derek thought. _Come back in 50 years and this will be a forest. If there are any humans left to see it._

"Hey, look at that."

Scuttling from tree to tree a family of baboons. Survivors perhaps of the nearby zoo. They ignored the humans entirely._ Don't blame you. Some superior species we turned out to be._

"Wonder what they taste like cooked?"

"Chicken."

They'd met no one in the ruined city. But signs of scavengers both human and animal were everywhere. Dog carcasses, looted buildings, scorched remains of camp fires - even fresh corpses bloated in the heat, some with skulls blasted apart, a sure sign of death by terminator. So far they'd been lucky and not run into any metal. Long may it continue.

"Getting mighty hungry," Kyle complained. As usual his brother set a brutal pace. They hadn't stopped to rest for hours.

To travel light they'd decided to keep food supplies to a minimum. Forage off the land. And if the land was a lifeless moonscape? Then they dug deeper.

An hour of excavating fallen masonry by hand revealed the shattered facade of a 7/11 store. Pristine condition. No one had been here since the bombs fell. They climbed inside, eyes quickly adjusting to the gloom.

Derek made for the drinks aisle. He snatched up a bottle of cherry Gatorade and chugged it down. The entire 2 litres. He belched contentedly, swinging his torch beam over the dusty shelves. Yellowed and curling newspapers frozen in time on Judgement Day. A row of celebrity magazines, the era's opiate of the masses. Their covers showed a vapid girl singer caught by the paparazzi as she exited a limo _sans_ underwear. _Where are your lubricious girl parts now, honeybun? Still intact? Or are you dust in the wind?_

He and Kyle had met a celebrity once. Back in the ruins of LA. A black rapper. Still wearing bling and surrounded by his loyal crew. All crammed into a delapidated Escalade with spinners on the wheels. Kyle had tried to warn them terminators were operating in the area, but they were too spaced out on weed and crack to take note. Ten minutes later, a huge explosion. By the time they got there the Escalade was ablaze. Direct hit from a plasma cannon. No survivors.

"Hey, they've got Captain Crunch. My favourite. You remember?"

"Long time ago."

The store's meat and vegetable produce had rotted away. But tinned stuff was fine as long as it didn't get too hot and spoil. Cereals were even better. The vacuum sealed foil wrappers keeping it fresh as the day of delivery. Derek and Kyle dined on Cheerios and Captain Crunch, mixed with dried milk powder hydrated with mineral water. Several cans of Campbells meatballs were consumed with plenty of apple filling and tinned custard for dessert. It was their best meal in many weeks.

"Hey, look over there. Got company."

Kyle shone his torch at a corner of the store. A skeleton in an expensive suit sprawled on the floor, its empty eye sockets ghostly white in the torch beam. A plastic badge on his lapel read store manager. At his post till the end. It didn't take Quincy to determine cause of death. A bullet to the brain. The entry wound cracked and ragged. A gun clasped in the bony fingers. Self inflicted then. Suicide. The easy way out.

"Coward."

"I dare say he had his reasons."

"A coward's reasons."

Kyle wolfed down a stale Oreo. "You think think this Connor will turn out to be all he's said to be?"

"Don't know. Possibly not. All I know is if he's learnt how to win against Skynet then he's someone worth seeking out."

In Los Angeles they'd heard persistent rumours from refugees and other itinerants of a John Connor, a messiah-like figure to many. That he had an army in the south. A mixture of tech guys and heavy duty military types. That he could make a cyborg switch sides and do his bidding. If he was half as good as his reputation, that would do for Kyle Reese.

"We've had our successes," he reminded his brother. "Remember when we took out those hunter killers with a C5 grenade launcher? Man, they went off like the 4th of July."

"We're just two men; this Connor's meant to have a fully equipped army."

"We could have an army if you'd learn to trust people more. What was wrong with that black guy, Carter? He was an ex-marine."

"And a morphine addict. His habit made him slow and clumsy. Sooner or later he would've got us killed."

"And Jeremiah? From the Ozarks. Real sharpshooter. I never once saw him miss."

"Old. With emphysema. He'd have slowed us down."

"Suppose I get old and sick? You gonna leave me behind too?"

"I'm always going to be older than you. And you never got sick in your life. Mom used to say you had the constitution of an ox."

Kyle tossed his empty Oreos packet aside and picked up some red wristbands from a store display. He waved them under his brother's nose.

"Kabahlah bracelet? Three bucks a pop. Put the world to rights for the price of a hotdog."

"Little late for that. Now get some sleep; we've a long journey ahead of us."

They slept for several hours, glad of the food and shelter. Awake they began reprovisioning for the journey. Sachet meals were good; light and portable. Bottles of mineral water. Protein tablets from the sports section. Packs of cigarettes. Excellent barter items if they met other folk with stuff to trade. Derek stuffed energy bars into his army fatigue pants. He eyed the booze aisle with regret.

_Jack Daniels, Glenffidich, Jim Beam. What I'd give to take you fine gentlemen along_.

But the bottles were too heavy. And alcohol a dangerous addiction, now more than ever. Too many survivors drank to kill the nightmare of present reality. Easy pickings for the machines. Derek added a small flask of vodka to his utility belt. _Medicinal purposes. Ah, the hell with it, gimme the two litre._

"Hey, take a look at this," Kyle called from the entertainment section. He held up a DVD. "They stock _Phantom Menace _but not_ Revenge of the Sith_. Now that is just plain wrong."

Derek smiled for the first time in days. The Reese brothers were crazy Star Wars fans. From way back. In childhood games he was Han Solo ; Kyle was Luke, until he realised Luke was a dork and switched to Boba Fett.

"Man, what'd give for a big plasma screen and a carton of popcorn right now."

Derek pushed through the checkout, pausing at the sunglasses carousel. It squeaked with rust as he rotated it. He selected a pair of Diesel aviators with mirrored lenses. 225 read the price tag. On the till register a sign caught his eye.

NO CHEQUES

and

PLEASE DO NOT ASK FOR STORE CREDIT AS A REFUSAL OFTEN OFFENDS.

He glanced over at the dead store manager. "Hey, buddy. Mr Hole in the Head. You accept Amex? That do nicely?"

He grimaced sourly_. No. It'll be a long time before Amex did nicely again._

**111000101000010010100101000000000001111111111100001010100101000100000001111**

Outside in the fresh air Derek pointed his cellphone at the sky. The phone network had died on Judgement Day, but the satellites were still up there in orbit round the planet. With a little modification the cell could be made to pick up an automatic GPS fix providing longitude and latitude coordinates to check on a map. They could track their position to within 3 metres anywhere on earth.

"We're here." Derek pointed with his finger at the large surveyor map of the area he'd spread out on the hood of a burnt out Oldsmobile. "And we want to head in that direction." He gestured to the south east.

"Let's try over that way," Kyle suggested. "Looks slightly less gnarly terrain. That's the Cabrillo Freeway. Maybe we get lucky and find some transport. Take us all the way to Mexico."

"That luck you keep hoping for - it ever arrive?."

"Aways a first time."

"We make our own luck. Always have and always will."

"Yeah, look where it's got us."

"You're not going defeatist on me, are you, soldier?"

Kyle saluted. "Sir, no sir!"

"That's cute. Real cute. If you've finished dicking around let's move. No sense making ourselves targets."

Kyle prepared to shoulder his backpack. His peripheral vision picked up movement.

"_Christ_! Derek! Look out!"

A large feral dog was barrelling towards them. A rottweiler. Its powerful hindlegs propelled it forward. Its jaws were agape, huge incisor teeth glistening with saliva. Derek reached for his Glock pistol. But his army jacket was laden with provisions. His hand snagged. He wouldn't be able to draw it in time.

_BAM..BAM..BAM!!_

Kyle's Glock fired three times. The hollowpoint bullets virtually disintegrated the rottweiler in midair. Its skull exploded, scattering bone, blood and viscera in every direction. The huge body convulsed, hit the ground and slammed into the Oldsmobile.

Derek finally managed to draw his gun.

_BAM..BAM..BAM!!_

He fired the shots into the beast's torso at point blank range, more to satisfy the adrenalin now pumping through his system than a need to kill an already dead animal. The creature's stomach sac ruptured, burst open and blood and digestive juices flowed out onto the sidewalk. They could see its last meal - a partially digested rodent._ Not much of a meal for a big guy like you, _Derekthought. _No wonder I looked so tasty_.

The dog population in San Diego pre-Judgement Day had stood at 400,000. Appoximately the same number of cats. Once their primary food source - humanity - had vanished, those that survived the initial blast had to fend for themselves. Only the larger predators survived - Alsations, Dobermanns and Rottweilers. Cats were now extinct in the city. But the dogs still had to eat.

"That was too close for comfort," Derek admitted. "Thank you."

"Hey, I've always got your back, big guy. The same way you've got mine. Right?"

"Right. That's how we roll."

They high-fived. It was a moment Derek Reese would play over and over in his mind when Kyle was dead_. I was wrong_. _I didn't have your back after all._

**10101001000101000010001010010010010100100101001010101001010100100101001010**

They walked for several hours. Glass crunched under their heavy army boots. They tried to avoid treading on the skulls and human bones wherever possible, but the glass was impossible to miss.

_Is there a single intact pane of glass in this whole goddamn city? _Derek didn't think so. The noise made them an easy target for an ambush. And not just machines: there were desperate humans out there in hiding, just waiting for a free lunch to pass close by.

Kyle halted. Derek walked on several metres before he realised.

"What is it?"

"You hear something?"

They listened. There. Faint but distinct. A woman's voice.

_"Help me. Please, someone help me."_

Both brothers drew their weapons. Glock 9mm with the hollow point ammo that had eviserated the rottweiler. The only ordnance that could at least slow down a terminator. Derek put his finger to his lips. Kyle knew the score;his brother drilled him regularly._ Covert advance. Protect yourself at all times. On my mark. Go._

Derek assumed the advance position. Rounding a burnt out Volkswagen he could now clearly hear a woman whimpering. And there she was. Her back to him. Tan cargo pants. A black singlet. Shoulder length brown hair. She was on the ground, her right leg pinned by a block of fallen masonry.

_Christ!_

No more than a four metres away were two men. Prone. Face down. Machine guns lying next to them. Derek Reese kept totally still, hoping like hell Kyle remembered his training. Neither of the men seemed to be moving._ Wait. Something's odd about their body posture_.

He crept forward, exposing himself to a lethal counterattack if his hunch was wrong. Nothing happened. The men were dead.

_"Help me. Please. Someone help me."_

He stood up and walked forward, gun trained on the woman. She heard him approach and turned to face him.

Derek Reese gazed on the cyborg model he would one day know as Cameron Baum. She smiled up at him. Big bambi eyes squinting in the low sun.

"Please help me."

" What happened?"

"We were attacked. By one of those machines."

"Where is it now?"

"Gone."_ I'm right here, human_. "That was hours ago. I passed out."

Kyle Reese appeared, creeping forward, gun held in a combat stance.

"Area secure?"

"Could be. But keep your weapon drawn. This is terminator handiwork."

"Locked and loaded."

The terminator smiled at the newcomers. She'd tracked three humans through the ruins. Two she'd killed easily. The third threw a percussion grenade that had brought part of the building behind her down, pinning her leg. Even her enhanced strength couldn' t move it. Then she'd heard these two humans approaching. She'd adopted a poor helpless female act.They would help her escape and she would return the favour by killing them. A deadly quid pro quo.

Kyle examined the bodies. "Broken necks, looks like. Who were they? Family?"

"Travelling companions."

"What's your name?"

"Maria Morgan," the terminator lied smoothly.

Maria Morgan had existed. Once. A real living breathing human being. Captured hiding in a toppled La Jolla condo. She'd begged for mercy after the terminator had finished extracting information on other humans in the area, spilling details of her life amid a torrent of sobbing. The terminator had opened a memory cell to record the life details. She accessed them now, assuming them as her own.

"I'm 19 years old. From up the coast. La Jolla. But I'm originally from the midwest."

"Long way from Kansas, Dorothy."

"My name is Maria. Not Dorothy."

"I'm Derek Reese. This is my brother Kyle."

"Hey."

"Hey."

"You in any pain, Maria? That's a mighty heavy chunk of masonry."

"No. My leg is only trapped, not crushed."

"Then you're a lucky girl. Rock that size falls on you, odds are we'd be amputating your leg right about now."

"Can you help lift it off me?"

"Sure thing."

Derek and Kyle pressed their shoulders against the ferro-concrete and pushed. It didn't budge.

"Gonna need block and tackle to move it," Kyle suggested.

"Why not a bulldozer while you're at it."

"Got a better idea?"

"Maybe."

Derek examined the wrecked vehicles lining the sidewalk. He smashed their trunks open using the butt of his rifle, carried three carjacks from their toolkits over to the fallen masonry and set them up on one side. He cranked the handles.

"Applied physics, little brother. Give me a fulcrum and I could move the world."

"So, Maria, where are you heading?" Kyle asked as the jacks took up the slack and the boulder began to shift ever so slightly.

"South." Her combat routines went primary. Soon she would be free. She would kill the humans and resume her patrol.

" Ever hear of a John Connor?"

A red warning icon flashed in the terminator's visual display.

_Subject: John Connor_

_Priority target_

_Terminate on sight_

"I have heard of John Connor. Do you know where he is?"

"We've a pretty good idea. We're heading there to join up with him. You're welcome to come with us."

Maria smiled. Her combat routines powered down. A greater prize awaited her. John Connor. Thorn in Skynet's side for so long._ And these humans will lead me right to him. And I will terminate him._

"I'd like that very much."

"Kyle, grab her arms and try pulling. These jacks won't hold forever."

Kyle gripped Maria's hands and managed to drag her free. She was surprisingly heavy for such a petite girl. She stood up and brushed the dust from her pants. _It's like she wasn't bothered in the slightest_, he thought._ A real cool-headed chick._

"How's the leg?"

"Good. Thank you."

"C'mon, you gotta at least have cramp. Don't try and be brave just for the sake of it. I'll check it out if you like. We've got med supplies."

"That won't be necessary. I'm fine," Maria informed him. An internal diagnostic indicated the skin dermal layer was breached in several places. An examination would reveal her metal skeleton.

"What are your friend''s names?" Derek asked.

"My what?"

"The dead guys. They have names?"

Her CPU selected two names at random from a memory database. "Ben. And...Jerry."

"Ben and Jerry, huh?"

"Ben is short for Benjamin; Jerry short for..."

"Gerald?"

"Yes."

"How well did you know them?"

The terminator sought information from Maria Morgan's life history. She had been a promiscuous young girl. Easy with her favours.

"They were my sexual partners."

"Both of them?"

"Yes."

Derek and Kyle exchanged looks._ Oh man..._

The brothers dragged the corpses off the street, cleared a spot on the sidewalk and laid them down side by side. They used larger pieces of rubble and rusted car panels to create a makeshift tomb. A tyre iron served as a cross. Derek bowed his head.

"Dear Lord. In your infinite wisdom you've seen fit for man to wage war against the machines he created. These two men were victims of that war. I don't know if they were sinners or not, but we commend their souls to you in the hope of everlasting life. Amen."

"Amen."

Maria watched with curiosity._ Who are the humans talking to_? Her infra red sensors indicated no life forms within a hundred metres. Did they have a hidden communication device? And everlasting life? She had snapped their necks. They were dead. But she could think of no way to question them without arousing suspicion.

"Sun's going down," Kyle observed. "Not dark yet but it's sure heading that way. You want to find shelter for the night?"

"We've got an hour of daylight left. I want to get clear of here in case it's part of a regular patrol area. Maria - can you walk?"

"I think I can manage to." Her power cell would allow her to circle the globe a dozen times before it was even half depleted.

"Good. Here, drink some water."

She accepted the mineral water bottle, took several swallows and poured the rest of the liquid over her face. She had seen this action performed by other humans. It was supposed to be refreshing. The water ran down her neck, soaking the singlet's thin material. The older man briefly stared at her breasts, before averting his gaze.

_So, you desire this body, human? Interesting..._

"We set?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Kyle, take point. Maria, you next. I've got our backs."

They moved on. The city absorbed them; tiny insignificant figures amidst the vast mountains of rubble. They had travelled far on this desolation road and the end wasn't nearly in sight. They'd find shelter soon. Skynet ruled the night. The infra red sensors on the hunter killers giving it an edge lone humans found difficult to counter. Besides, without a full moon to illuminate a path traversing the ruins was madness. One slip and a broken limb could prove as fatal as a plasma cannon.

But tomorrow? Who knew what that day might bring?

**END OF CHAPTER ONE**

**I don't often write multi chapter fanfics but here goes, I guess. The first chapter was long but subsequent ones should be much shorter. **

**Incidentally, is it cheques or checks in the USA? I've used the English version so if it's wrong, my bad.**

**Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.**

**PJ**


	2. Revelations

**chapter two**

**Revelations**

present day

His school work neglected and his coffee cold in the cup, John Connor sat engrossed by Derek Reese's story. In contrast Cameron had lost interest early on and was seated cross-legged in the middle of the floor, parts of a dismantled AK-47 laid before her like a particularly bizarre child's puzzle. She dabbed oil on the firing mechanism and wiped it clean. She could do this for hours and never get tired or bored.

"This Maria Morgan - she looked exactly like Cameron?"

"Same bambi eyes and hard as nails attitude."

"You never suspected?"

"She was metal? No. Least not at first. See, in those days, if a terminator infiltrated an encampment it went berserker killing everyone there. They were unsophisticated models too. She was the first female model we ever saw. But I guess the clues were there all along."

"What clues?"

"Her stamina, for one. Kyle and I were running on empty by nightfall, but she was as fresh as when we started. And she hated to sleep; always wanted to press on south, like she had an urgent appointment to keep."

"And Kyle, he never suspected?"

"Hate to ruin your day, kid, but Kyle was Maria's biggest fan. I'd shout at her, holler abuse and threaten to cut her loose. But Kyle always stuck up for her."

_Like me. With Cameron_, John thought. _I stick up for her. Whenever Mom gets on her case about something I'm there to defend her. Like father like son._

"And then there was her weird split personailty," Derek continued. "One minute she was cold and distant and not a word out of her; next she could be all girlish and plain ditzy, like she was channeling the spirit of Marilyn Monroe."

"A schizhophrenic cyborg."

"Crazy, huh. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"When you met - her. Ever suspect?"

John rememebered the moment well. By the high school lockers. "_Hi, I'm Cameron Phillips_." The tiny thrill that a pretty girl should want to speak to the new boy. The boy with no friends. All that shattered the moment Cromartie tried to kill him. The parking lot. The jeep door flung wide. The outstretched hand. _"Come with me if you want to live." _Deja vu_._The end of innocence.

An unspoken thought nagged at him. He gave it voice. "You and Maria - you two never, uh --"

"I wondered when you'd have the _cojones_ to ask that."

"It's just, what you've told me she sounds like a--"

"Tramp? Yeah. But it wasn't me who was interested in her."

It took a second for this to register. John suddenly felt his heart pound in his chest. "Not -_ Kyle?"_

"Good looking kid, my younger brother. Me, the girls saw a brute. Ran a mile in four. But Kyle? They saw an angel."

"But she was a cyborg."

John's mind was in turmoil. His father and Maria? Who just happened to look exactly like Cameron. Why did he feel so sick to the stomach? Why did he feel anything at all? _Because it could have been you_, his mind told him. Supposing Cromartie had waited a few months, a year? Would things have developed further between Cameron and himself?

_SNAP!_

Cameron had finished reassembling the AK-47 and forcefully snapped the ammo clip home. She squinted down the barrel and evidently satisfied with her work placed it to one side. She stood up and walked out of the room, her jeans worn low on her swaying hips.

"You seeing what my brother thought he saw?"

"I don't know what you mean," John stalled.

"Sure you do."

"My father...Maria...they didn't..?"

"You're getting ahead of the story. Way ahead."

Outside the jeep pulled into the driveway. Sarah Connor returning from the shopping run,

"You want to hear the rest, or help unpack groceries?"

"No contest. Keep talking."

Derek Reese leant back in his chair, his thoughts returning to the ruined city of San Diego. It all seemed a long time ago, yet it was still in the future. Strange. He'd never get used to it. "I guess a good place to start is the ambush."

"You were ambushed - by terminators?"

"Not terminators this time."

"Then wh--"

"Hey. Be quiet and listen. Time later for a pop quiz."

**END OF CHAPTER TWO**

**Mostly exposition as you can see. Plus a Kyle - Maria/Cameron plot tease. I tried to give Cameron a presence in the scene even if she doesn't have any lines.**

**Third chapter has more action. It could hardly have less, **_**Lol.**_

**PJ**


	3. The Ambush

**chapter three**

**Ambush**

**future/past**

The ambush happened at noon.

Derek and Kyle Reese and the terminator who looked like Cameron Baum yet called herself Maria Morgan, were walking down a street in Chula Vista, a southern suburb of San Diego. They used the crown of the road to avoid an unusually large concentration of human remains. Bones and skulls littered the sidewalk. Bones weren't a rare sight in a city of 3 million, all caught unawares as Judgement Day unfolded, but to see them concentrated in a single place was strange to say the least.

"Watch your step. These were people once, let's show some respect." Derek warned the other two._ How'd they get here? _he wondered. _Did a flash flood wash them here? Predators?_ Then he realised and it all slotted horribly into place in his mind.

_Cameras._

Small metal oblong boxes amongst the bones and skulls. The ruins of a church behind. This was no flash flood. It was a wedding reception, caught out in the open when the bomb detonated.

_A wedding party._ He could it all so clearly._ The happy couple posing for photographs with family and friends. The bridesmaids giggling together sharing a moment as they waited for the bouquet to be thrown_.

At least it was quick. They wouldn't have felt a thing. Perhaps one of the burnt out vehicles lining the street was a limousine waiting to take the bride and groom off to the airport and a honeymoon somewhere nice.

A skull had rolled a distance from the others. He bent to pick it up. It was small, white and weighed almost nothing. No lower jawbone. The empty sockets stared balefully up at him._ A child. Perhaps a pageboy._

_CRACK!_

The skull exploded in his hand. Gunfire. The bullet had missed him by inches.

"Get under cover!"

Derek ducked behind a wrecked Chevy Citation. Two more bullets hit the rusted side panels but didn't penetrate.

"Direction?"

"Large building. Top of the road. Upper right quadrant," Kyle shouted back.

"Third floor. First balcony on the right," Maria announced. Her thermal image optics had already pinpointed the heat source.

"How many?"

"Count one muzzle flash. I don't think it's metal."

"No. Not their MO. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"It's a rogue."

Rogue. A human so disloyal to his own kind that even faced with Skynet's species annihilation he was willing to kill other humans to get what he wanted, which was mainly food, weapons and fresh female bodies to rape and kill. Rogues were as dangerous as anything Skynet could throw at them - and far more despicable.

"Bastard."

"What's the plan?" Kyle wanted to know.

Derek considered the options. Prudent tactics were to retreat, skirt around this SOB and continue on their way. But he'd never walked away from a fight in his life, and he wasn't about to start now.

Kyle knew his brother's reply before he did. "We're going to smoke him, aren't we?"

"Smoke him good. Kyle, scout round the back. I'm going in the front. Maria, stay here."

"I want to help."

"All right." Derek shrugged his backpack to the ground. He retrieved a spare pistol and handed it to her. "This is a Glock nine-mill. To fire--"

Maria took the gun and half ejected the clip, checking the ammo. She slammed it home and snapped the breach back loading a live round in the chamber. "I know how to use weapons."

"Just don't shoot your foot off."

"Why would I shoot my foot off?"

"Hey, I'm not patronising you. This could get messy."

"I like messy. Do we attack now?"

"On my mark. Go with Kyle. Set?_ Move.!"_

Derek rolled left and ran at a crouch behind the line of wrecked vehicles. Two bullets hit the ground ahead of him. He swerved, running at full tilt now. The revolving door of the building loomed before him, it's glass panels long shattered. Inside. No time to take much in. Looked like a hotel lobby. Empty. He fetched up at the stairwell. Clear. Steps taken two at a time. A door at the third floor level still intact. He eased it open. Clear. A line of bootprints marked the dusty corridor floor. _Whoever this guy is he sure as hell isn't ex-military, _Derek thought_. He's leaving a trail Stevie Wonder could follow._

He crept slowly forwards. The bootprints led to a corner suite. He kicked open the door, rolled and came up in a combat stance. The man was still lying in his sniper position on the balcony floor. At Derek's entrance he turned, swinging the heavy rifle round.

_BAM!_

The hollowpoint took out the man's right shoulder. He fell backwards. Derek was on him in an instant. He kicked the rifle over the balcony's edge.

"How many of you?"

"I'm bleeding!"

"How many?"

"It hurts bad!"

"Answer me or you lose the other shoulder."

"Uh. Just me. I'm alone. The others were killed."

A commotion at the door. Derek whirled round and brought his gun to bear. Kyle and Maria entered.

"Check the other room," he ordered.

"On it." Kyle was back in moments. "Nothing. Whole side of the building's collapsed."

"Okay. Stand down weapons."

Maria moved forward curious to see this human, this rogue who preyed on its own kind. As she got closer a green alert icon blinked in her visual display. Her facial recognition software. She knew this man. Yes. From earlier. One of the three humans she had tracked. He was the one who had escaped, had thrown the percussion grenade that trapped her beneath the falling masonry. And she saw he recognised her. His eyes grew wide.

"Wait! Listen to me. That thing. It's not hu--"

_BAM!BAM!BAM!_

The terminator fired three bullets at point blank range into the man's chest. The torso disintegrated on impact, blood and gore and organ tissue splattered in every direction..

_"Christ_!" Derek snatched the gun from her hands. "I said stand down weapons!"

"He was rogue. He deserved to die."

"It's not your decision to make." Derek ejected the Glock's ammo clip. It clattered on the floor."You want to travel with us you obey my orders. At all times. Understood?"

Maria stared back. Every instinct told her to snap this human's puny neck. She finally lowered her eyes. The mission was more important. "Yes. I understand."

"Make sure that you do." He handed the gun back.

"He's dead," Kyle told him.

"No shit."

"Why would you want him alive?" Maria wanted to know.

"Information. He might've known an easier route out of the city. Might've known Skynet patrol patterns."

"And you would let him live for this?"

"I never said anything about letting him live. Once he'd told us all he knew he was going over the balcony."

The cyborg regarded the older brother. _Yes. The blood lust is strong in you, I can smell it. You contain it well, but it is always there nonetheless.. You are a worthy adversary, but a dangerous one also. _She had prevented the rogue human from exposing her true identity, but had sown the seeds of suspicion in this man's mind. It was time to cover her tracks, to distract the human from nurturing those suspicions. She accessed Maria Morgan's memories again. The lachrymose ones where she had begged so pathetically for her life. They slotted into primary mode.

"Please. Don't leave me behind. Please don't. _Please." _She burst into tears, great wracking sobs that shook her entire body.

Derek Reese turned his back on the spectacle in disgust. There were few things he hated more than a woman losing control of her emotions. He busied himself searching through the dead man's belongings. Spare ammo, pack of cigars, a thin black wallet. He flipped it open. _Who carries a wallet these days? Force of habit maybe? A relic of the past. _There was a drivers ID still in its plastic compartment.

"Name is Charles Alexander Mitchell. Age 38. Residence here in San Diego. North Torrey Pines. Didn't we pass by there?"

"Yeah. By the university. Place was pretty banged up. Guy must've been out of town on Judgement Day to survive that."

There was one other object in the wallet. A small photograph, faded and creased with age.

It showed a younger version of Charles Mitchell at the beach. Next to him was a pretty blonde girl. Both wore bathing costumes and smiled for the camera. On the reverse written in ballpoint ink:

Charlie and Christina

Christmas vacation

Saint Barts

_No more christmases for you, Charley boy. Santa's checked his list. You're not on it._

Derek pocketed the cigars and tossed the wallet and photo onto the body. Maria's sobs had turned to whimpers. He ignored her. "You find anything?" he asked Kyle.

"Maybe. Come and take a look at this."

Derek joined his brother. He had something from a tote bag found lying in the room.

"What'd you find?"

"In a second. You were kinda harsh on her."

"She deserves it. When we're done here we'll split food and water and cut her loose. We're better off that way."

"That's a death sentence."

"Maybe not. If she's careful. Sticks to the main routes."

"I'm asking you to think again."

Something in his brother's tone raised Derek's hackles. "You asking me or telling me?"

"Does it matter? She stays with us. I'm not going to be responsible for her death."

"Oh yeah? Last time I checked I still had a few years on you, junior. That change overnight? I don't think so."

"You cut her loose then you cut me loose. I mean it."

The brothers were nose to nose. Kyle had always possessed a looser more relaxed personality than his tightly wound older brother, but he could be just as stubborn when he cared to. And he knew how and when to pick his battles. In a confrontation between them more often than not it was Derek who backed down.

"Why is she so important to you? You sweet on her? Is that it?"

"What if I am? You really don't want to butt heads with me on this, bro."

"Okay, _bro. _If it means so much to you she stays.For now. Just don't come crying to me when she ends up in the arms of John Connor."

Kyle smiled, mostly out of relief he'd won the argument, that Derek didn't call his bluff. "Connor's probably old. Or bald. Or both."

"Now show me what you found."

Kyle moved aside to show his brother the map he'd discovered in the sniper's gear. He spread it out on the dusty floor. It was a street map of the city, more detailed than their own. Six buildings had been circled in pen, presumably by Charles Mitchell. Next to them written in black ink:

Und. C.Park

Y/N?

The N - No? - was circled in five out of six. The sixth was unmarked.

"Underground carpark. Yes or no."

"He was looking for something but came up empty five times. Perhaps it wasn't there. Or it was too badly damaged to be of any use."

"Transportation. Got to be. That or a fuel supply. He wanted out of the city."

"Yeah. That's my call too. The sixth building is the Marriot Apartments. South of here. About 10 miles."

"You want to check it out?"

"Can't hurt. It's on our way."

"Okay.No skin off my nose. But do one thing for me in return."

"What?"

"Keep bambi eyes the hell away from me."

**END OF CHAPTER THREE**

**The coincidence of the sniper being the one who trapped Maria isn't quite the lazy plotting it might appear. This scene has implications for the final endgame.**


	4. The Writing on the Wall

**chapter four**

**The Writing on the Wall**

There were an hour's walk from the sniper's lair. Deep in the Chula Vista district in the southern half of the city. It was mid afternoon. N way they'd cover the 10 miles to the Marriot Apartments before nightfall. In a few hours finding shelter would be the priority.

"Hey. Look at that. Signs of life." Kyle Reese pointed at a broken section of wall that stood as high as three stories in places. Painted on the bricks in big white letters:

FREEDOM IS NOT FREE

IT COSTS IN BLOOD

ARE YOU WILLING TO PAY THE PRICE?

"Like we have a choice." Derek addressed no one in particular.

There were more signs of human presence here than anywhere else. Someone had painted a mural on a wall depicting crude robotic terminator figures being killed by humans. The humans were very muscular, almost comic book-like, and appeared to be hispanic. Perhaps this was a latino area of the city. Still, most of the graffiti was in english. It was on every wall.

JESUS WILL SAVE US

IF WE HAVE FAITH IN THE LORD

and

FIGHT THE METAL

and

REPENT SINNERS

THE VENGEANCE OF GOD IS UPON US

and

WHAT ROUGH BEAST

IT'S HOUR COME ROUND AT LAST

SLOUCHES TOWARD BETHLEHEM

TO BE BORN?

"Yeats," commented Derek. "Cheery sonofabitch, wasn't he."

Other graffiti recalled an earlier age.

SAN DIEGO PADRES RULE ALL

or was just plain cryptic

YOUR PRETTY FACE IS GOING TO BURN

BURN BABY BURN

Still others were poignant, yearning.

JARED RODRIGUEZ

YOUR FAMILY IS SAFE

WE ARE HEADING FOR THE MOUNTAINS

JOIN US IF YOU CAN

and

LORI MICHELLE COOPER

PLEASE COME HOME IF YOU CAN

YOUR CHILDREN MISS YOU VERY MUCH

FROM YOUR LOVING HUSBAND

Finally, most astonishing of all.

JOHN CONNOR IS THE CHOSEN ONE

Derek, Kyle and Maria stopped in front of this. "What does it mean?" Maria asked, staring up at the three feet high letters. "Is John Connor here? In the city?" Her combat programs went to amber alert. Could she be about to fulfil her mission?

"It means someone has more imagination than sense," Derek told her. "There's no such thing as a chosen one."

"Then why are we here busting our humps trying to find him?" Kyle retorted.

"You believe that clap-trap? We're here because Connor has a living breathing army that's finally fighting back. But if he's the new Messiah, I'm the Wizard of Oz."

"Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain."

Kyle looked around. All this sign of activity but no one home. Where was everybody? Something caught his eye low down against the wall, partially hidden by some scrub. A paint can with a brush beside it. The graffiti artist's must've used it to daub the walls with their slogans. By the weight of it there was still some paint inside. He had an idea.

"I'm going to paint a message of our own."

"Why, what's the point?"

"C'mon, man. Something for posterity. We'll never pass this way again."

"It's a dumb idea. And don't write my name. Leave me out of it."

"You can be a real jerk sometimes."

Derek very deliberately turned his back on his younger brother and went and sat on a collapsed wall._ The kid's finally lost it. Messages for posterity? Christ._

"What is your brother doing?" Maria enquired.

"Wasting his time and ours."

He lowered his backpack onto the ground and took out the cigars he'd taken from the late unlamented Charles Mitchell. _Montecristos. _Stale but he wasn't complaining. He held one out to Maria. "Cigar?"

Maria hesitated, a diagnostic program began.

_object: cigar_

_composition: vegetable. cured leaves of the tobacco plant_

_purpose : mild palliative properties when inhaled_

Derek snapped open his trusty zippo lighter, lit his cigar then offered the flame to Maria. He inhaled then exhaled a cloud of fragrant white smoke.

"These things will kill you. But what the hell."

This was illogical. The cigar was soft and blunt. Useless as a weapon. She inhaled her first mouthful of cigar smoke. She didn't cough. No lungs.

"Good?"

"Yes." It felt like the correct response. A diagnostic analysed the composition of the smoke.

_carbon monoxide_

_hygrogen cyanide_

_carbon particulates_

_unidentified toxins_

"I suppose you were just a child on Judgement Day?" Derek probed, curious about this bambi- eyed stranger travelling with them.

Maria retrieved the appropriate memory. "Yes. A small child."

"Whereabouts in the midwest did you live?"

"Wichita, Kansas."

"What did your parents do for a living?"

"Mark and Shauna Morgan. They were realtors."

"Be awhile before that business picks up again. Were you happy, in Wichita?"

A jumble of fragmented images cascaded through her artificial cortex.

_...a tract house, a child with ponytailed hair, braces on her teeth, a woman smiling at her, a man swinging her round and round while she screamed with laughter, a christmas tree, a bike with ribbons on the handles, a large white dog with a drooling tongue, a cake with candles, presents by the score, much much laughter..._

"Yes," Maria said lost in contemplation of these alien emotions. "Yes, I think I was happy."

"Carry it with you always. It'll help light the darkness."

"You fear the darkness?"

"Me? I fear nothing."

"No. That's untrue. You fear the responsibility, that the decisions you make might cost your brother his life. Why do you fear for him and not yourself?"

Derek's jaw tightened. "That's bullshit. You know nothing about us."

Kyle returned. There was paint in his hair. "Take a look. I didn't use your name."

On a wall, in blocky white letters:

_**HAN AND LUKE AND LEIA**_

_**THE TIES THAT BIND**_

Derek stared at the words for long time not trusting himself to speak. Finally, he said, "I thought you preferred Boba Fett?"

"I changed my mind."

"What does it mean?" Maria wanted to know. "Who are Han and Luke and Leia?"

"They're us."

The cyborg opened her mouth to protest then stopped. She sensed a deeper emotional meaning here, one that would forever elude her comprehension. Humans were proving more complex creatures than she had envisaged. Not stupid meat puppets. And the more she learned about them the less it seemed she understood.

**END OF CHAPTER FOUR**

**If you read the first chapter you'll know why **_**Han and Luke and Leia/the ties that bind **_**gives Derek such an emotional jolt. **


	5. French Lessons

**chapter five**

**French Lessons**

**future/past**

Midmorning and the temperature in San Diego was soaring. Aready 90 degrees in the shade. Judgement Day had altered weather patterns all over the world, but here in So Cal it was the same old story. Hot and dry and baking.

"It's hotter than hell today," Kyle complained. "Nuclear winter? More like a nuclear summer."

Both men had tied bandannas round their heads to try and keep the sweat from their eyes. Even Maria, who hardly seemed to perspire at all, had damp patches on her black singlet.

"Be grateful. This heat will confuse the hunter killer infra red sensors."

They were only 3 miles now from the Marriot Apartments. Making good time. The streets here were wide, as wide as the boulevards in Paris. A social gathering place before the bombs, shaded by long lines of eucalyptous trees. The trees shattered now, their broken trunks sticking out of the ground like timber stalagmites. But nature was fighting back. Grasses flourished in the crevices. Scrub vegetation reclaiming the land. In a few years they'd need a machete to move aound here.

"Will you look at that. Incredible."

A large ornamental fountain blocked their path. Easily 60 metres in diameter. A tall bronze sculpture of Poseidon stood in the centre. Amazingly it was still brimful of water.

"Must be built over an underground spring," Derek speculated. "Otherwise it would have evaporated ages ago."

Kyle moved to the low parapet. He dragged his hand in the water. It was wonderfully cold. He made a snap decision. "I'm going in. It's weeks since I washed properly. I smell like a sewer." He began to shed his clothes.

"I guess it can't hurt. Go first. I'll stand guard since this is probably an animal watering hole. Maria, we're taking a timeout. Want to freshen up?"

She observed Kyle in just his boxer shorts stepping into the fountain. "Freshen up. Yes. Good idea."

To both brothers astonishment she proceeded to strip down to her panties. Unabashed by her nudity she joined Kyle in the water.

"Hey, Derek. Eyes front and centre, soldier." Kyle grinned wolfishly. "You're the sentry, remember."

Derek flipped him the finger and turned away._ Like I need to see that. _

Plunging underwater, Kyle vigorously rubbed the dirt and grime from his hair. The water was cold and clear. He could see Maria's legs, like two shapely white pillars. The skin on one leg was blotchy pink where she'd been trapped beneath the fallen masonry. _You were a lucky girl that day._ He held his breath as long as he could then surfaced with a splash, gulping down great lungfuls of air.

"Pretty damn nice, huh?"

"Yes. Pretty damn nice."

He tried not to stare at her chest. It was difficult._ Should I try some moves? It's not like she's a nun. Two lovers, no less. _"May I wash your back?"

"If you wish."

He sluiced handfuls of water over her bare shoulder blades. "You have perfect skin," he said. It was true. Not a blemish or a freckle to be seen. Apart from a small scar on her right shoulder. "How'd you get this scar?"

Maria glanced round. The scar was from an attack by a human wielding a chainsaw. She'd wrested it from him and wielded it back. The man's screams were cached in a memory cell.

"I don't remember," she lied.

"You want to do me?"

"Do you?"

"Wash my back."

"If you wish."

Kyle turned round. Maria's hands began to rub his back. She noticed a small scar near his neck. "How did you get your scar?"

"My brother did it when we were kids."

"Your brother attacked you?"

"No. We were pretending metal bars were light sabers. Accident waiting to happen."

"What is a light saber?"

"You don't watch movies?"

She consulted Maria Morgan's memories. Maria had been a fan of more lusty pursuits...

"I prefer to fornicate."

"Oh. Well, that's fun too."

He spun round. Their bodies were touching in several places. He could feel her nipples pressing against his chest. The human Maria told the makebelieve Maria what to say.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

"I surely do."

His lips found hers. Maria felt the human's tongue part her lips and gently encroach into her mouth. She bit down. Hard.

_"Bitch!" _Kyle recoiled in pain and put his hand up to his mouth. It came away bloody. "If you didn't want me kissing you, why ask? Dammit!"

He clambered out of the fountain. Maria watched him go. She had done something wrong. Made some human protocol error. But what? She replayed the memory in slo-mo. The kiss. His tongue entering her mouth seeking hers. Her teeth biting down. Yes. There. The biting was incorrect.

She filed the information in a spare memory cell.

**110100010001010100100010000010111110010100010100100101010010100101010101001**

**present day**

John Connor could hardly believe it.

"My father made out with a terminator?"

"We didn't know it then. And she was half naked. You can't pass up those opportunities."

"But it's like he frenched_ Cameron_."

Cameron looked up from her school text book. "Who frenched me? What is frenched?_ Parlez vous francais? N'est pas? Je maipelle Cameron Baum."_

"Not that sort of french."

"Oh. You mean the kissing with tongues."

"How do you know about that?"

"The other girls talk about it at school. A boy called Scooter Matthews is supposed to be profficient. One day I will ask him to demonstrate."

"You want Scooter Matthews to french you?"

"It is important to update my personal skills. Why? Do you wish to demonstrate for me?"

"Yeah, kid, do you?" Derek Reese grinned, clearly relishing his future commander's discomfort. _This'll teach the kid to judge Kyle._

"I...You're meant to be my sister," John finished lamely.

"You use that excuse alot. You're no fun."

Cameron turned and walked away. John watched her leave.

_I'm no fun? Now what's that supposed to mean?_

**END OF CHAPTER FIVE**

**This is the end of the subplot of the John/Cameron and Kyle/Maria relationships conincidentally mirroring each other across the years. I thought it was kinda fun.Like father like son, etc.**

**Oh, it's called snogging in England. Much better word.**

**They reach that underground parking garage next chapter - finally!**


	6. Going Underground

**chapter six**

**Going Underground**

The Marriot Apartment building. Pre-Judgement Day it'd been a 10 storey block of luxury apartments catering to San Diego's moneyed elite. Two mill bought a simple duplex on the lower floors. Upward of five mill secured the penthouses on the upper floors. There'd been plenty of takers even at those prices. Times of plenty.

Not any more.

Seasons of wither. The bombs had reduced the building to a hollow shell. The upper six stories gone entirely. Vines had crept out of the surrounding parkland and were beginning to colonise the remaining walls. Exotic birds nested on the hardwood floor balconies, their screeches and mating calls loud in the otherwise silent city.

Derek, Kyle and Maria found the entrance to the underground carpark with little difficulty. It was signposted.

MARRIOT APARTMENTS

PRIVATE ENTRANCE FOR RESIDENTS ONLY

PASSCARD ENTRY

CCTV SECURITY IN OPERATION

A CCTV camera hung limply on its post, lense smashed. They began to walk down the two lane incline. A walk of fifty metres or so brought them to a steel rollup door as wide as the entrance. Derek and Kyle bent and pulled on it. Didn't move an inch.

"Can I help?" Maria offered.

"It's useless. We'll have to find another way in."

"Let's try once more." Kyle suggested. "I thought I felt something give."

This time all three bent and took hold of the base of the door. The cyborg's enhanced strength made all the difference. The locking mechanism sheared and the door rolled up.

"How'd that happen? Thought it was locked solid."

"I guess Maria's stronger than she looks," Kyle laughed. Maria smiled back. Their respiration patterns were normal. They suspected nothing. Ahead of them the tarmac continued downwards then curved to the right.

"Don't get your hopes up," Derek cautioned. "This could still turn out to be a wild goose chase."

"No. There's something here. I've got a good feeling about this."

They turned the corner and the underground parking garage was revealed to them.

"Holy Mother of God!"

The playthings of San Diego's elite class lay before them. Porsches, Ferrari's, Corvettes, Mustangs - expensive cars of all make and model were parked as if awaiting their owners imminent return. The sturdy basement construction had withstood Judgement Day with virtually no damage at all.

"This is a 1960s Ferrari Dino," Kyle marveled stroking the scarlet chassis. "It's virtually priceless."

"Worthless piece of junk."

"It's a design classic!"

"Look at the ground clearance. Wouldn't go 20 feet out there without ripping off the axles. Now that is more to my taste." Derek pointed towards the corner where a huge Humvee stood. "That looks like something we could actually drive out there."

The Humvee belonged to a San Diego Padres baseball player who owned one of the penthouse apartments. Like many celebrities he'd decided driving a Hummer gave him a suitably macho public persona. In the back were bags of climbing gear; he'd been planning a climbing expedition up into the mountains but postponed it to stay in the city for his sister's birthday. It cost him his life. Instead of being safe in the Sierras he was now dust in the wind. On Judgement Day many such innocuous decisions meant the difference between survival and a fiery death.

"Hey, keys are in the ignition!" Kyle exclaimed. "This is a gift from God."

"Steady, Moses. Try the battery."

Kyle turned the key. Nothing. "We'll work it out. We're on a roll."

The two brothers began searching the rest of the parking garage. Maria slid behind the wheel of the Humvee. _Yes. This is a powerful machine. It will shorten the journey to John Connor_. She examined the controls, reached out and pushed her right forefinger into the cigarette lighter socket. Current flowed from her internal power cell into the dormant battery. She turned the ignition key. The starter motor whined before the massive V8 kicked in and roared into life.

"Maria? What the hell?"

"It is working again."

"What did you do?"

"I turned the key and pressed the gas pedal."

"There's no way that battery still had juice after all this time," Derek announced.

"Maybe it's some sort of special military grade battery designed for Hummer's?"

"Maybe."

"I told you, man. We're on a roll."

They stowed their gear in the back. The next task was to siphon off all the gasoline from the other vehicles into large jerry cans. The Humvee was a thirsty beast and they needed every last drop of fuel.

"That's 50 gallons worth. Add what's in the tank and we're good for 500-600 miles. Plenty to take us over the border. If we can't find Connor after that we'll probably never find him."

Kyle got behind the wheel, his brother beside him and Maria seated in the rear. Drive was selected and the powerful V8 engine carried them effortlessly up the ramp and into daylight.

The air con kept the interior deliciously cool in the heat of the day.

"Only way to travel," Kyle grinned, over-revving the engine for the sheer joy of it.

They covered three miles in the same time it usually took to walk a quarter mile. The Humvee's giant wheels and high ground clearance made easy work of the rubble and general street debris. If a wrecked vehicle blocked their path Kyle simply chose a lower gear ratio and muscled a way past used brute force. Derek sat with eyes constantly scanning the streets for trouble, the Glock resting on his lap with the safety off and a finger curled round the trigger. The Hummer would be a tempting prize for any rogues. And a target for Skynet's hunter killers.

"Okay. Tell me which way to go."

Stopped at a wide intersection Kyle awaited instructions. All the signposts were down and the lane markings obscured with dust. Derek spread Charles Mitchell's streetmap on the dash.

"Okay. Give me a minute."

He held his cellphone out the window to pick up the GPS signal. While he waited for his brother Kyle pushed random buttons on the Humvee's stereo. It was a Blaupunkt. German. Very classy. The radio tuner began to automatically cycle through the frequences. Nothing but white noise where there had once been a thousand stations. Then, incredibly, the unmistakable sound of the Beatles filled the interior with music. _Yellow Submarine_.

"Is that a CD?"

"It's the radio!"

"Impossible."

"I swear to God, man. It's the radio."

They waited for the song to finish. A man's voice filled the silence. He had a thick southern accent that stopped just short of being a drawl. "That was the Beatles. _Yellow Submarine_. Don't suppose there's many submarines around these days, yellow or otherwise. You're listening to Radio Free America. Broadcasting to you from the heartlands USA. I'm the Wolfman. I'll be bringing you good patriots out there all the news from the frontline and some mighty fine tunes from yesteryear. News just in from Tijuana. Seems our old friend John Connor brought down seven - count 'em, seven - Skynet hunter killers last night with no loss of men. Way to go, JayCee. _Yee-haw!_ Fight the Metal. Wherever you are in this fine old country of ours Fight the Metal like John Connor. More news later. Time for some music. This is from the Summer of Love. Jefferson Airplane. _Somebody to Love_."

As Grace Slick's distinctive voice filled the cabin, Kyle turned to his brother.

"You know what this means?"

"Damn hippies are back."

"We're not alone. We're fighting back. Fighting and winning. And Connor's in Tijuana. Or was. How far is that? We should head there."

"Tijuana's just over the border. Twenty miles, maybe less if we can find a freeway not too badly damaged. Radio Free America, huh? Got a nice ring to it. This guy calls himself the Wolfman. Gotta be some story behind that..."

**END OF CHAPTER SIX**

**The Wolfman is based on the character Ray Flowers, the deejay from Stephen King's novel **_**The Stand**_**. My fav King novel by a distance and one I re-read often. It's a masterclass in character development and multi-level narrative.**

**Hope the Wolfman intrigued you because he gets the next chapter to himself.**


	7. The Wolfman

**chapter seven**

**The Wolfman**

The alarm went off at six o'clock Central Standard Time - or ohsixhundred hours as Lieutenant Jon Wolfowitz always called it; he was a career military man after all and proud of it.

"Up and at 'em soldier," he told himself as he levered his long frame from the army cot he used as a bed. "No time for dallying. You can sleep when you're dead."

Jon knew he was talking to himself more and more as the years passed and wondered if it was entirely healthy. He'd once seen a movie where Tom Hanks was stranded on a desert island and ended up talking to a face drawn on a basketball._ Lordy, I'm not that far gone surely_? He'd a feeling the army psych docs would agree it was perfectly understandable behaviour when you've been trapped pretty much alone in an underground bunker since Judgement Day.

Jon Wolfowitz had joined the army right after college - University of Texas naturally. A year after basic training he'd shipped out to Kuwait for the first Gulf War. And what a skeet shoot that'd been. No one in his platoon had sustained injuries any more serious than sunburn. No purple hearts there. Over time he'd risen through the ranks until he made Lieutenant, switching from combat duty to a logistical role. It paid more but didn't stir the blood the way lying in a foxhole late at night deep in hostile territory did.

_"Lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz. My friends all have Porsches. I must make amends."_

Dammit, that was another thing. Ever since he'd started Radio Free America he kept singing out loud random lyrics of songs that just lodged in his doggone head. He found it almost impossible to stop.

"Keep it together, Jon. Or the Wolfman. Whatever dang crazy name you're calling yourself these days. Don't go squirrily on me now, soldier."

The day the world ended, the day of his entombment, he'd been on assignment in Denver, Colorado. Just him and his superior officer Captain Roy Reardon. Roy was career military like himself. Had a grandpappy who'd fought on Omaha Beach. They were there to inspect the Fallout bunkers in the area with a brief to recommend those suitable for decommissioning. The new Skynet computer defence system was meant to render all of them obsolete when it came online. Oh brave new world...

"Jeez, that was a pickle for a nickel and no mistake."

Half way through the first bunker inspection, 10 stories underground, the alarm went off and the massive blast doors began to close of their own volition. The city of Denver had been wiped off the map in Skynet's first strike. Real dirty bomb too; the radiation redlining the remote sensors and staying that way ever since. Everything was sterilised up there while the bunker's air filters kept them snug as a bug in a rug. Water and food? _No problemo, senor_. The bunker had a 50,000 gallon tank of potable water and enough freeze-dried army rations to last decades.

_"The sky is threatening my very life today. If I don't git some shelter, man, I'm gonna fade away." _

Jon had no kin to speak of. Just an ex-wife riding the alimony pony on Maui with her Pilates instructer. Roy, on the other hand was a family man. Wife and three kids living in Chicago. And the Windy City was a radioactive slagheap, rumoured to glow in the dark. The Captain had borne it well, considering. Sure, he'd wept plenty and there were sleepness nights, but he'd seemed to pull through. Jon realised now he'd seen what Roy had wanted him to see.

_"I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in and stops my mind from wandering where it will go-oo-oo."_

It had happened during one of their many games of chess. Years ago now but Jon remembered it like it was yesterday.

"Checkmate."

"Dang it, Captain. You beat me again."

"It's Roy, remember? Just like you're the Wolfman now. That old life's over. Gone for good."

"Sorry - Roy. Force of habit. Another game?"

"No. Think I'll catch up on my shuteye. Having trouble sleeping again."

"You want to split a pizza later?"

"I'll pass. That freeze-dried stuff tastes like cardboard anyway."

Jon packed the chess pieces away. The score was now 856-187 in Roy's favour.

_**BAM!**_

Jon walked slowly into the rec room as if in a trance. Roy was slumped in a highback chair, service revolver still clutched in his hand and his brains dripping down the wall.

"Oh shit, Captain. Why'd you do it?"

There was a suicide note.

_Wolfman_

_It's over. We're never getting out of here. And even if we did there's nowhere to go. It's all gone. Time to lower the curtain on this Godforsaken farce. _

_Sorry about the mess._

_Roy_

The body was carefully placed in an empty munitions case, wrapped in a flag and stored in a remote part of the bunker. Jon put the chess set in there with it. No need for it now.

In the years since Jon had thought about putting a bullet into his brain same as the Captain, but his nerve always failed him. Then one day something happened that gave Jon Wolfowitz a reason to go on living.

_"I can see clearly now the rain has gone it's gonna be a bright bright sun-shiny day."_

The bunker comms equipment still functioned. Occasionally it picked up radio signals from survivors. Jon could listen in easily enough and sometimes was able to converse with the sendee. In this way he learnt about Skynet, about the metal terminators roaming the ravaged land killing or enslaving his fellow man. One day a year or so after Roy's suicide, he was speaking to a man called Jeb Morris, ex-marine, a survivor from New Jersey who'd managed to get a short-wave radio to work. Jon had his iPod playing in the background; it was his only form of entertainment and he played it constantly.

"Hey, Wolfman, what's that song I hear? Is it Springsteen?"

"Yeah, Jeb. _Thunder Road."_

"Man, I love that song. Saw the Boss play once. Meadowlands. Good times. Turn it up, I can't hardly hear it."

Jon had wound up playing the whole of_ Born to Run _and most of _Darkness_ for Jeb and his companions hunkered down in the ruins of Jersey.

And thus Radio Free America was born. He used the bunker's spare generator to boost the signal and began broadcasting a daily three hour show. His iPod held over fifty thousand tracks so the shows were always different. He also incorporated snippets of news when he could and relayed messages from coast to coast for people still hoping against hope their loved ones might still be alive somewhere. Suddenly Jon Wolfowitz had a reason to go on living. He mattered. He was making a difference in people's lives. He gave them hope for the future.

And one day it was all taken from him.

The very day Derek and Kyle Reese accidentally tuned into Radio Free America while they travelled their Desolation Road, Jon had visitors. Three men arrived in a jeep, all wearing matching army fatigues. He watched them walk up to the blast doors on the cameras that still functioned and continued to relay images of the outside world into the bunker's CCTV monitors. The men were identical - tall and muscular with black crewcuts. One walked up to the external intercom and said:

"I'm looking for Lt. Jon Wolfowitz." The voice had a pronounced european accent. German maybe. Or possibly Austrian.

Jon keyed the microphone. "I'm Jon Wolfowitz. Who are you?"

"Lt. Wolfowitz, we are here to escort you to safety. Open the doors."

The radiation meter still showed a lethal dose outside. And these creepy guys wore no protective gear. They were cyborgs. No doubt in his mind. How had they found him? Perhaps Skynet had traced his radio signal. He keyed the mike again.

"I don't see any insignia on those uniforms. Which unit are you with, soldier?"

"Lt. Wolfowitz, we are here to escort you to safety. Open the doors."

"Go to hell, you tin bastards!"

The T-1000 stared impassively up at the camera. "We'll be back."

They returned the same time next day. Jon watched them arrive. They carried an oxy-acetylene cutting torch and began to slice through the first blast door.

"Shit."

It took them three hours to cut through. Now they were in the elevator shaft. It was damaged beyond repair but this didn't deter them. They simply climbed down the ten stories carrying the cutting torch on their backs like agile metal monkeys and began work on the final blast doors.

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

There were very few weapons in the bunker, but there was a supply of C4 explosive intended for the sapper crews in the event of a nuclear war. Jon carried as much of it as he could and placed it at strategic points throughout the bunker's warren of rooms. Then he broadcast his normal three hour radio show, his voice betraying no sense that he had scant hours left to live.

"And finally, some bad news I'm afraid. Got three gentleman of the metal persuasion come aknocking at my door today. I do believe they mean the Wolfman some serious harm. I guess this is gonna be my last show. I'd like to leave you with this thought. Franklin Delano Roosevelt once said his generation had a rendezvous with destiny. That's as true today as it was then. Our destiny is to take back our homes, our streets, our neighbourhoods, our country and our planet. Fight the Metal. Never surrender. Not to your dying breath. This is the Wolfman broadcasting for Radio Free America leaving you with one last track for posterity. From the Golden Age of Rock and Roll. Mr Chuck Berry. _Johnny B. Goode."_

_**down in Louisiana close to New Orleans**_

_**way back up in the woods among the evergreens**_

The blast door was breached. The first terminator entered. Jon pressed the detonator.

_**BOOM!**_

The wall collapsed.

_**in a log cabin made of earth and wood**_

_**lives a country boy named Johnny B. Goode**_

The second terminator entered ignoring its stricken colleague. Jon retreated toward the rec room. He waited until the cyborg was centred in the doorway then pressed the second detonator.

_**BOOM!**_

The ceiling collapsed.

_**go go **_

_**go Johnny go**_

_**go**_

The third smashed straight through the wall. Jon retreated further into the bunker. There was no escape of course; the radiation was already frying his bones. He retreated to the munitions storeroom and locked the door. On the shelves were the remaining supplies of C4. They all had fuses attached. Jon could still hear music playing.

_**Johnny B. Goode**_

The terminator began to smash apart the metal door. It took a step inside.

"This is for Roy Reardon and his wife and kids. Hell, for everybody's wife and kids."

He triggered the final detonator.

_**!!BOOOMMMM!!**_

The bunker destroyed itself with an explosion that sent a fireball racing up the elevator shaft and over a hundred feet into the poisoned Denver sky.

_**go Johnny go**_

_**go**_

_**john...**_

_**...**_

_**...**_

_**...**_

_**..**_

_**.**_

Radio Free America went off the air.

A patriot had fallen

**END OF CHAPTER SEVEN**

**The Wolfman debuted in the previous chapter and I ended up sketching so much backstory for his minor scene I decided to write this. I hope it works as a standalone story as much as a chapter in **_**Desolation Road**_**. Let me know.**

**I kinda liked the Wolfman, alone for all those years and going slowly bonkers with just his iPod for entertainment. Just as well it wasn't a Shuffle.**


	8. End of the Road

**chapter eight**

**The End of the Road**

Stand at the bottom of a cliff and it will appear to be a thousand feet high, no matter its real height; mountaineers call this effect foreshortening and it can't be avoided.

"We're not going to make it. It's too steep. We'll have to find another way."

The Humvee was on an elevated freeway south-east of San Diego. This was the limit of the nuclear bomb's most catastrophic damage. The road structure here was structurally sound, though the vehicles travelling it on Judgement Day had suffered an hellacious firestorm. Every vehicle was a burnt out hulk filled with the charred remains of the occupants.

"Try it once more. This time keep the revs up." Derek encouraged.

They were at the base of a steep slope of buckled and undulating asphalt. An isolated section of freeway had collapsed leaving a steep incline between them and the rest of the road above.

"I'm red-lining it all the way. It's the front end. It's real skittish on this surface."

Kyle floored the throttle. The large wheels began to lose traction almost immediately as the V8 struggled to get its horsepower to grip. The Humvee climbed 40 metres up the steepening slope before the front wheels lost all traction, slewed sideways and slid all the way back to where they'd started.

"Dammit."

"Face facts, man. We have to turn round and go back the way we came."

Derek Reese pounded the dash in frustration. Beyond this point the road was clear, if only they could reach it. The border was close; they could be in Mexico by nightfall. To retrace their steps meant spending another night in the city, with all the dangers that entailed. So far they'd been lucky and avoided any Skynet patrols. Who knew how long that luck would last?

"Give me a minute, okay. I'll think of a way."

In the back seat Maria regarded the human's difficulties with stoic disdain. She could easily drag the vehicle up the slope single-handed, but to do so would mean revealing her true identity. Her mission to terminate John Connor was too important for that. She would leave it to them to solve the problem - if they could.

Kyle said, "If we had a winch we could pull ourselves up, no problem."

"If we had rockets fitted we could fly to the moon," Derek pointed out sarcastically. "If you can't suggest anything sensible then do-- Wait a minute. What's in those bags we found in the back?"

"Climbing gear."

"Ropes?"

"Yeah. And fleeces and boots. Why, what you got in mind?"

"See those armco barriers at the top? What if we looped the ropes around there and attached the other ends to the chassis."

"You want us to haul this thing up that slope? Now who's being stupid. It's a two ton vehicle, and we're low on spinach."

"We don't haul it up. The ropes stabilise the front end. If we keep the ropes taut and the Hummer pointing in a straight line we should be able to generate enough forward motion to get us to the top."

"If we're on the ropes who drives the Hummer?"

"Maria - you can drive, can't you?"

"Yes."

"Okay then."

**11110001010001010100100101000101010100100001111100101001000100101010101010**

To help with weight distribution all non-essential items were ruthlessly excised from the Humvee. All their gear, the seats apart from the drivers, even the doors were removed. Derek and Kyle climbed to the top of the collapsed roadway and secured the climbing ropes to the armco supports using mountaineering carabiniers as substitutes for pulleys. They pulled the ropes taut, taking out every last millimeter of slack. Derek waved, giving Maria below the prearranged signal to begin.

"Remember, as tight as you can make it."

"Got it. Here goes nothing."

Maria started the Humvee up the slope. Her machine intelligence estimated a 73 per cent chance of success. Humans could be ingenious creatures when they needed to be.

"It's working! Tighter, Kyle."

The wheels began to lose traction again the steeper the slope became. But this time the front wheels couldn't break away as the two guy ropes held it on course. The V8 roared, white tyre smoke flooded the cabin. Maria switched to infra red vision. The engine block was a white pulsing cube inches away, the two humans tiny pale figures in the distance.

"It's coming! It's coming! Almost there."

Kyle's rope broke. The sudden loss of tension threw him backwards. He struck his head on the armco barrier, sprawling limp and lifeless.

_"Kyle!"_

The effect on the Humvee was even more catastrophic. Derek's rope caused it to slew sideways before it too sheared, accelerating the vehicle toward a near vertical section of asphalt. The Hummer tilted dangerously then tipped over once all control was lost.

"Maria!"

The cyborg's internal gimbals sensed the vehicle tipping over. She threw herself out the sidedoor.

_CRUNCH!_

Too late. Her body was crushed beneath the chassis. Together they slid all the way to the base of the slope, sparks kicking up from the exposed metal surfaces.

Derek crossed to his brother's side. He felt for a pulse. _Yes. Good and strong. Thank God_.

"Kyle, can you hear me?"

"Wha--I'm...I'm okay. Check on Maria."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Just groggy. Go. Help Maria."

Derek launched himself over the edge, sliding down the slope on his backside heedless of the skin being torn from the palms of his hands. The Humvee had landed on its roof, the wheels still spinning. At least the fuel tanks hadn't ruptured and there was no fire. But there was no sign of the girl.

"Maria? Are you okay? If you can hear me don't try and move. I'm coming."

He was two thirds of the way down when he spotted her. She was pulling herself from the wreckage using both arms.

_"Christ!"_

The lower half of her body was missing. Where her legs should be there was nothing but severed metal rods and dangling wires.

_She's a frigging machine!_

The cyborg's visual cortex was a mass of red warning icons. The damage to her systems was irreparable. Her primary mission was over. But she could still kill the two humans. She purged Maria Morgan's memories from her CPU, she had no further need for them. From this moment on all pretence was over: she was a killing machine pure and simple.

"Kyle! Stay where you are!"

Not that it did him any good. Derek knew he was in big trouble. No cover and nowhere to run. He was trapped like a rabbit in oncoming headlights.

The terminator unholstered its pistol and took aim. It pulled the trigger.

_BAM!_

The bullet grazed Derek's neck, drawing blood but nothing worse. He felt the bullet's passage through the air before he heard the gun fire. For a split second he thought he'd been hit twice._ No, but you're about to be unless you do something fast._

The terminator recalibrated its targeting graphics. The crash had damaged the software. But this time it reset manually. The crosshairs met. There would be no mistake. It pulled the trigger.

_...CLICK..._

At first Derek couldn't quite believe it._ I should be dead. From that range I'm a sitting duck. _How was it possible there were no bullets in the clip? He always kept them fully loaded.

_The snipers lair..._

Of course. When she'd murdered Charles Mitchell he'd snatched the pistol from her hands and ejected the clip. Mad as hell at the time. He hadn't replaced the clip and neither had she. _Not such an infallible machine after all_.

Derek lowered himself slowly to the bottom of the roadway and crossed to where they'd placed the backpacks. There was no hurry. The cyborg was 30 metres away. He could walk faster than she could drag herself using her hands and arms. He picked out a thermite grenade and faced Maria Morgan one last time.

"So you were a machine all along. Why didn't you kill us? You've had plenty of opportunities."

"Your deaths were not my priority mission."

"And what was?"

"To terminate John Connor."

"Of course. And we'd have led you right to him. He scares you, doesn't he - Connor? Whatever he's doing down there in Mexico has got Skynet worried."

_screechscreechscreehscreechscreech_

The terminator dragged itself ever closer, the severed coltan rods that were all that was left of its lower limbs grinding against the rough tarmac. It didn't register diappointment, frustration or helplessness at the way events had transpired. It continued to pull itself forward intending to kill this human by whatever means possible. It's eyes now glowed blue with all pretence of humanity expunged from its system.

"Skynet fears no one. Humanity will be eliminated from this planet. Then the other primates and larger mammals."

"Species genocide. What then? If you reduce this planet's biosphere to a barren lump of rock, do you build spaceships and travel to the stars looking for more life to murder?"

_screechscreechscreechscreechscreech_

The cyborg offered no reply, but doggedly continued its pursuit. Perhaps it didn't know Skynet's ultimate objective? Or maybe it just didn't care. Derek set the fuse on the thermite grenade and threw it.

_"Adios_, bambi eyes."

The terminator burned with an intense white flame. It didn't take long. Soon all that was left were delicate lines of pale metallic dust that began to blow away on the breeze. Kyle came and stood beside his brother. They looked down at all that remained of the machine that had called itself Maria Morgan.

"Metal all along, huh? How come we're still alive?"

"We were its ticket to Connor. It needed us alive."

"You're bleeding. You okay?"

"Fine. Just a scratch."

"Humvee's trashed. What do we do now?"

"We walk. You remember how to walk? Just put one foot in front of the other."

**END OF CHAPTER EIGHT**

**Apparently that's a viable method of getting a vehicle up a steep slope. I saw it demonstrated yonks ago on a tv show - **_**Scrapheap Challenge**_**, if memory serves. Funny how this stuff lodges in your head.**

**I was tempted to let Maria survive and take a crack at JC, but the final chapter's got an altogether different vibe. **


	9. Ouroboros

**chapter nine**

**Ouroboros**

Mexico. A long dusty road threading its way through the arid countryside. A harsh sun beat down from a perfect blue sky, beat down on two men, seen from above mere dots in the landscape moving slowly south from the border.For after much discussion Derek and Kyle Reese had decided to avoid entering Tijuana. At night they had seen Skynet hunter killers in the skies over the city, searchlights sweeping the ruined landscape and the occasional pulse of plasma cannon directed at some unseen target on the ground. Wherever John Connor was he surely wasn't holed up in Tijuana. That would be tactical suicide. No, he'd be in the countryside keeping his options open.

"If he's here we'll find him," Derek assured his brother. "Or he'll find us."

"Better hope he's not the type to shoot first and ask questions later."

All around were fields of savannah grass that swayed in the breeze like waves on a vast sea. Once this was all arable land, valuable and fertile. But without mankind's fertilizers and regular irrigation the cultivated grasses had given way to the indigenous species. Only isolated stands of Monterey pine and sagouro cactus broke the monotony.

"So this is Mexico, huh?"

"Yeah. We crossed the border four hours ago." Derek confirmed.

"My first time out of the country,_ padrone_. Can you believe that?"

"Mine too."

"Didn't you visit Hawaii for a swim meet the summer before Jay Day?"

"Hawaii's part of the Union, numbnuts. And I didn't go. Got mono."

"Oh yeah. The first girlfriend." Kyle grinned. "Dad was pissed but secretly kinda relieved you weren't gay. We all were, bro."

"No one thought I was gay. And remember this - I'm not the one made out with a terminator."

"You're never gonna let me forget that, are you?"

"Not a chance."

Since the terminator's destruction the Reese brothers had fallen into an easy camaraderie that recalled their childhood, the days when they'd hiked to the beach or explored the woods near their home. Days gone by. A life vanished forever.

_**whumpwhumpwhumpwhumpwhumpwhumpwhumpwhumpwhump**_

"Find cover!"

In the distance a twin-rotored helicopter crossed the horizon. Derek used a small pair of binoculars to track the craft. "It's a Chinook. No markings."

"Think it's Connor's people?"

"Could be. Pretty ballsy to fly one of those. The Chinook's mainly a transport bird. Very lightly armed. A hunter killer spots it and you're history, basically."

"It's heading south-east. Same direction as us."

"Yeah. Let's pick the pace up. Be dark soon."

"Getting low on water. Two days max. If we don't find a supply soon..."Kyle's voice trailed off. He didn't need to explain further. They both knew what no water meant. They'd been walking since sunrise. Dust coated the legs of their fatigue pants. The heavy backpacks causing both men to walk with a slight stoop.

"According to the map and the GPS there's a town seven miles from here. We'll resupply there. If there are people we'll try and get a lead on Connor."

"Sounds like a plan."

They rounded a curve in the road. A dead coyote lay in the middle of the dusty asphalt. Its head was missing.

"Not dead long. Are you, fella?" Derek knelt and examined the carcass. "Blood's hardly coagulated. Maybe an hour. And look at the wound. It's clean. Sliced right through. A plasma rifle did this."

"A rogue wouldn't carry a plasma rifle. Too heavy and complex to maintain. Slow him down. And metal wouldn't bother killing a coyote. Connor's people again?"

"Maybe." Derek noticed something wedged under the body. He moved it slightly. Under the coyote's haunches a small spherical object with an LED blinked from green to red.

"It's a trap! _Move!"_

The stun grenade exploded.

**10010001000100010001010001010010111100101010001010100011101001010101001001**

**"**Wake up."

_slap _

_"_Wake up."

_slap _

_"_I said, Wa--"

"I'm awake, dammit. Quit hitting me." Derek groaned as consciousness returned. He was propped up against the trunk of a Monterey pine. The sun hadn't moved much in the sky so he couldn't have been out for very long. His hands were manacled behind his back. He was also stark naked, his clothes scattered across the prairie grass. Across from him Kyle was in a similar predicament, but still unconscious.

"Major, prisoner's awake."

"Good. Let's get this over with we're wasting time."

The second voice came from behind him. Female. Derek tried to look round but the tree trunk was too thick, the mancles too tight.

"Whoever they are looks like they came to party, Major. I'm counting four Glock nine mills with plenty of ammo. Hollow points mostly. Nasty stuff. Two stripped down AK-47's. Thermite grenades. Knives. A knuckle duster. Some food and water, but that could just be a decoy. We know the latest infiltration units are pretty sophisticated. Sure smells human though."

"Let's find out one way or the other."

A short slim figure dressed head to toe in army issue desert camo gear came and stood looking down at Derek Reese. A woman in her early 40s. Attractive. Long dark hair and olive skin. Hispanic then. No insignia on the uniform. When she spoke her voice held no trace of an accent.

"Tech nerd - front and centre. Quickly."

A skinny youth in desert camos two sizes too big for his slender frame hurried up and saluted. He swallowed nervously. "Yes, Major?"

"Do your stuff."

The skinnny kid pressed a needle probe into Derek's neck. It stung but didn't draw blood. He read from a small device held in his plam. "Reading's negative, Major. He's flesh and blood same as us."

"Test the other one."

The probe was pushed into Kyle's neck. He stirred slightly. "Also negative. He's human."

The major took a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses from a tunic pocket and put them on. "I want your names and what you're doing here," she demanded.

Derek tried to sit up straight and stare her in the eye."What gives you the right to treat us like this?"

"Try a plasma rifle pointing at your bare balls."

"It was you who set the trap with the stun grenade, wasn't it?"

"Saw you kicking up a dust cloud a mile away. Nothing piques a man's curiosity quite like a headless coyote. It's a guy thing. Now quit stalling. Names. Now."

_No reason not to tell,_ Derek calculated. _If she's with Connor we've found what we came for. If she's rogue it'll at least buy some time. But I don't think she's rogue. Too organized. Too efficient_. _Too damn pretty._

"My name's Derek Reese. That's my brother Kyle. We're here looking for John Connor."

The soldier who had slapped Derek awake looked round from where he was searching their backpacks. "Did you say your name was Reese? Spelt R-E-E-E-S-E?"

"Yeah."

"It's them, Major. The one's we were told to watch out for. They fit the descriptions."

"Okay. Cut them loose. And put your clothes back on, pretty boy. You're coming with me and I'm not that kinda gal."

After Kyle came round and their bindings were cut and clothes replaced the Reese brothers joined the Major in an army jeep. Apart from sore heads the stun grenade had caused no lasting damage.

"Lieutenant, you're in charge. Continue the patrol. See you back at HQ."

**111010101000100010101000101000100100101010001010010010010010010111010100100**

"Name's Major Yolanda Gonzalez, by the way. From Miami. Third generation born and raised. Just so you know I'm not some _marielito _fresh off the boat."

"Long way from home, Major. What brings you to Mexico?" Derek rode shotgun while Kyle sat in the back of the jeep along with their gear.

"Long story. Give you the short version. On Judgement Day I was out in the boonies on manouvers with the National Guard. Came back to find Miami a crater.Lost everyone I ever cared about."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Lost myself for awhile. Got loose and sloppy. Death wish of sorts, I guess you'd say. Then the Lord Jesus came to me in a dream and told me to head west. That's where I met John Connor."

_John Connor is the Chosen One._ Derek recalled the graffiti in San Diego._ Is that where we're heading - to join a zealot's army?_

"So you think Connor's the chosen one?"

Yolanda looked sharply round. "You a religious man, Reese?"

"Not so much."

"Then you have that in common with the commander. He don't believe much either. Me, I think everything happens for a reason.As Albert Einstein said, God doesn't play dice with the universe."

"Some might say He already has. With a sidebet of 5 billion souls. And it came up snake eyes."

"No, Reese, you're wrong. We may not understand it, but we're doing God's work. And to answer your original question, no, I don't think John's the Chosen One. More importantly, neither does he."

Yolanda was silent for the rest of the journey and Derek didn't think it was because she needed to concentrate on her driving._ Why do I have this compulsive need to ostracize people? What harm did it do to let her have her beliefs, even if it does fly in the face of all reasonable evidence? Am I such an embittered nihilist her faith actually offends me?_

The jeep slowed and pulled off the road to park under the shade of a solitary Joshua tree.

"End of the line. We walk from here."

Derek checked his watch. Twenty minute journey at an average 30mph meant they'd travelled at least 10 miles from the ambush site. It might be important if things turned sour.

"Leave your bags. I'll have someone come and collect them."

"What about weapons?"

"You even need to ask?"

They began walking up an incline that became progressively steeper the further they went. Ahead was a tunnel entrance dug into the hillside_**.**_ Camouflage netting extended above and to the sides. A sentry barred their way: a tall black man in desert camos who pointed a plasma rifle at them.

"That's far enough."

"At ease, Clarence. They're with me. The commander around?"

The rifle didn't waver. "Gonna need the password, Major. Them's the rules."

"Of course. The password's boondoggle."

Clarence lowered his rifle and grinned. "Welcome back, Yolanda. Hot enough for ya?"

"It's always hot enough, Clarence. Now, is the commander around?"

"In his quarters. Hey, Yolanda, you hear the news?"

"What news is that?"

"The tech nerds reprogrammed the last of the captured machines. Got enough metal SOB's to fit out a platoon. I figure the Big Push is any day now."

The Big Push. Operation Citadel. The final assault on Skynet. In the planning for months. The Chinooks were fueled and ready and the troops they would transport honed to a constant state of readiness. But still the commander hesitated. he gossip was he expected something to happen beforehand.

Or perhaps someone to arrive.

"Here comes one of them metal bitches now."

A slim female walked up the slope toward them dressed in desert fatigue pants and a black cotton singlet. She had long brown hair and familiar bambi eyes.

_"Maria!"_

"Don't let her in! She's not human."

"Whoa, fellas! Calm down. We know what she is. And she's been reprogrammed."

The Maria-lookalike saluted Clarence and Yolanda, who reluctantly returned the salute, and walked into the tunnel.

"And her name ain't Maria," Clarence explained. "That's Cameron. She's Connor's own private plaything, if you believe the rumours."

"Don't let the commander hear you talk like that, Clarence," Yolanda warned. "Loose talk never sat well with anyone."

"Hey, I proved my loyalty to the cause. Take a look at this."

Clarence rolled his left sleeve up. From elbow to wrist was a mass of red raw flesh only now beginning to scab and heal over.

"How'd that happen?" Kyle asked.

"Second battle of Tijuana. Got the wrong side of a thermite grenade. Don't hurt so bad when you're on the winning side for a change."

"So we're winning the war?"

"Save your questions for the commander, if you're lucky you might even get an answer." _That'll be the day_, Yolanda thought privately._ John keeps his cards pretty close to his chest. Even I don't know what he's thinking most days, and I'm supposed to be part of the command loop._

"We heard rumours in Los Angeles that Connor could reprogram terminators. Those things really on our side?"

"Most of the time."

"What's that mean?"

"It means sometimes they go bad. No one knows why. Had one go beserker just yesterday. Killed two men before we destroyed it."

"Then why take the risk?"

"Strange as it may seem they're helping us," Yolanda explained. "They're the perfect First Wave: tough, durable and expendable. We closed down the uranium enrichment plants outside El Paso and lost a fraction of the men we'd normally expect to. Skynet relies on atomic fission for its power so sooner or later it's gonna be running on empty and the assembly lines will shut down."

They left Clarence behind and entered the bunker. Rooms either side of a long central corridor. Most of the doors were shut, but one was open offering a glimpse of several young teenagers working at laptop computers, binary code scrolling down the screens._ Is this where they reprogram terminators? _Derek wondered. Above the door someone had scrawled in white chalk: Mom's Basement.

"What's going on in there?"

"That's where the tech nerds hang out."

"Mom's basement? They're just kids. And what's a tech nerd?"

"They're kids with IQ's bigger than yours and mine put together. If we have a secret weapon against the machines then it's the tech nerds. The commander values them highly and they worship him. Do not underestimate them."

One of the tech nerds looked up, his acne ravaged face breaking into a grin of recognition. "Hey, Major. Wait up. Got something I want to show you."

"Yeah, in your pants!" sniggered one of the other teenagers.

"Shut up, Finkelstein!"

"What is it, Tucker? I don't have time for any puerile jokes."

"No joke, Major. The Top Secret Project we're working on is starting to come together. Check it out."

The boy called Tucker picked up a silver object that resembled a hand torch with thick power cables plugged into a handle where the D-cell batteries normally went. He flipped a switch and the thing began to hum ominously. A yellow beam of light emerged from one end, two meters long and pulsing as if it was alive. Tucker wielded it like a --

"Light saber!" Kyle blurted.

"Well, we call it a proton coil neuron flux disruptor. But light saber's cool. Watch."

The teenager used both hands to scyth an arc in the air. The beam hummed and sliced across Derek Reese's chest.

"Hey, watch where you're pointing that thing!"

"Don't worry, dude. Unless you're metal it won't hurt you. If you were a cyborg I'd have just fried your CPU."

"You're certain of that?"

"Sure am, Major. Trials confirm it. Hundred percent success rate, even through coltan armour plating. Only problem is the power source. At the moment the battery pack's the size of a wardrobe, but we think we can shrink it so it'll fit into a backpack. We think it's ideal for close combat work."

"Good work, Tucker. All of you. Keep me advised. This could be very useful indeed."

"Will do, Major. Say-_ uh _- Yolanda, I was wondering..."

"I've told you before, Tucker. I'm twice your age. Get over it."

"Whoa, wipeout!"

"Dammit, Finkelstein, shut your mouth!"

They left the crestfallen tech nerd behind and moved deeper underground. Derek could hear the sound of ventilating fans. The air was cool and fresh, invigorating after the heat outside. Yolanda stopped outside a plain green metal door. She paused to straighten her uniform and sweep dust from her pants, then knocked on the door. "Permission to enter, sir?"

"Granted." A muffled voice from within.

The room they entered was small but uncluttered and lit by a single table lamp. An army cot was pressed against one wall with two chairs facing a desk behind which a man sat. He didn't get up. On the wall behind was an operational map of Southern California. It was covered in red and blue pins, the blue easily outnumbering the red. _Hope we're blue_, Derek fervently wished.

"The men you requested be brought to you, John."

"Thanks, Yolanda. Please, sit down gentlemen. How was the patrol?"

"Uneventful, apart from these two. Think Skynet's given up Tijuana. No sign of metal for days now."

"The two men who were killed yesterday? You're conducting the funeral?"

"Yessir. They were both good catholic boys. You're welcome to attend."

"Least I can do. The tech nerds tell me they're close to understanding why they go bad."

"Let's hope so."

"Okay, Yolanda, that'll be all. Oh - tell cook there'll be two extra places at my mess table for dinner."

"Yessir." Yolanda saluted and closed the door behind her. _Two extra places, eh? That'll make three since you normally dine alone every night, despite my best efforts. Who are these two men? And why the preferrential treatment?_

As the tide of war turned inexorably in mankind's favour, John Connor's thoughts came to dwell increasingly on this inevitable meeting with the Reese brothers. He'd considered sending an extraction team to Los Angeles to circumvent their dangerous journey through San Diego and the terminator named Maria Morgan, only to decide against it. Sometimes it was better to let the timelines play out of their own accord. In telling the story of the Desolation Road all those years ago, Derek Reese had been vague on the precise dates, leaving John no choice but to have every patrol for the last two months be on the look out for two men travelling on foot. He knew Yolanda Gonzalez was the most likely to encounter them since Derek had spoken of a 'feisty latino beauty' whom he wished he'd gotten to know in rather better circumstances. So Yolanda had drawn the lion's share of patrol duties without ever realising why. And today history had clicked into place. Synchronicity.

Inside the room no one spoke until Derek cleared his throat. "Commander Connor, sir, I'm Derek Reese. This is my brother Kyle. We've traveled a long way to meet you."

"I know you have, Derek, you told me all about it a long time ago."

"I _-uh_- what?"

"Drink? I have your favourite - Coors. Warm not frosty, this is a warzone, after all."

"How--"

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter."

The Maria-lookalike cyborg they'd seen earlier stepped inside and walked up to the desk, handing over a thin manila folder. "The latest troop deployments you requested, John."

"Thanks, Cameron. Let me introduce you. This is Derek and Kyle Reese."

"Nice to meet you," Cameron recited, her human greetings protocols going primary. She extended her right hand. Derek stared at it as if it was a Cobra's head about to strike. Things weren't going as he'd envisaged at all. He'd pictured John Connor as an older man, perhaps white haired and in neatly starched and pressed army uniform, a General Patton figure for the age. But Connor was barely older than he was. His uniform consisted of tan chinos and a faded_ Radiohead _tee shirt. And as for this cyborg abomination...

"I'm not shaking hands with - _that. _It's --"

"Metal?" Cameron finished for him. "Yes. Model TOK 715. How clever of you to notice."

"That -_ thing- _tried to kill us not three days ago!"

"He lies. I have not left the compound in 78 hours and 43 minutes."

"Gentlemen, appearances to the contrary, Cameron is nothing like Maria Morgan."

"How d'you know about Maria? We've told no one. And how could you be expecting us? Or know my favourite beer?"

"That's -_ uh _- classified information."

"Bullshit, _sir._ Something's going on here. And I want some answers -_ now_!"

Time was when John might have felt intimidated by Derek Reese's belligerence. Not any more. His inability to prevent Judgement Day, the death of his mother, months spent in a Skynet penal colony had injected iron into John Connor's soul. After all the teenage agonising he'd come to realise you weren't born a great leader you became one with every fateful decision taken in the heat of battle. Get it right or die. Survival of the fittest. It wasn't the good who died young merely the incompetent. It was a harsh lesson to learn but he'd learnt it well. John set his jaw and leaned forward to meet fire with fire. It was a look his men knew well. Yolanda Gonzalez called it his 'my way or the highway' look.

"Enough. I'm in charge here not you. I'll tell you what I can when I can. No more than that. You've travelled a distance to get here and now I'm asking you to go the extra mile and trust me. If not, there's the door. You're free to leave."

The two men locked eyes. It was Derek who blinked first. "All right, we'll do it your way. For now."

"Good. First I need to talk to your brother alone. Cameron will show you to your quarters.We'll talk later."

"What? No way. If--"

Kyle spoke for the first time since entering the room. "It's okay. I'll hear what he has to say. Go. Don't screw this up for us."

Once Derek and Cameron had left John leaned back in his chair and contemplated the extraordinary fact that this was his father, his_ father_, dammit, a living breathing human being opposed to the man of legend he'd grown up hearing about from his mother._ He's so young. Younger than I expected. And with barely a week to live he won't be getting much older.Can I do this? There must be another way._

"Drink?" John stalled wanting more time.

"I'm fine."

John had often felt the hand of history on his shoulder, or the hand of fate, call it what you will, and never more so than now. He'd agonised for weeks on what to do and what to say when this moment arrived. The senior tech nerds had been carefully consulted on the conundrums of time travel, without going into specifics. Could the past be undone? Or would the future unravel? If Kyle Reese wasn't sent back into the past to save Sarah Connor and impregnant her would he, John Connor, simply wink out of existence? And without him would Skynet win the war? No one could be sure.The tech nerds spoke of Schrodinger's cat, or possibly a cat called Schrodinger, John hadn't understood that part particularly well. _I can't risk it. I just can't. Forgive me for what I'm about to do._

"Are you hungry? I can have food brought in."

"Let's cut to the chase. What d'you want to say to me?"

"Suppose I told you there's a mission only you can undertake. But there's a chance you might not survive."

"What sort of mission?"

"One that's vital in the war against Skynet. In fact if you succeed it will be the single most devastating defeat the machines can suffer."

"It will help win us the war?"

"Yes."

Kyle Reese spoke from the heart. "Then bring it on."

His son smiled sadly.

"I knew you were going to say that."

**THE END**

**That's it. Over. Done. Dusted.**

**Quick disclaimer****: The opinions, beliefs and prejudices expressed by the characters are not necessarily shared by the author. (yeah right, cheap cop-out, Peej!)**

**Hope you enjoyed it. I tried to keep the chapters as different as poss, to keep my own interest going if nothing else.**

**Nitpicker Alert:**** Yeah, I know it doesn't happen this way in the show. But I figure with time travel at the heart of a story there's always going to be a fair bit of wriggle room. No harm no foul. Or as I prefer, my fanfic my rules, Lol.**

**Ouroboros?**** It's that circular snake thingy eating its own tail. You'd know it if you saw it. Self explanatory, hopefully. And yeah I know it's the title of a**_** Red Dwarf **_**episode.**

**Thanks for reading. **

**PJ**


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